


Figure It Out

by Trash_tzar



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, flowershop au, trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:53:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_tzar/pseuds/Trash_tzar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flower store clerk Doug Eiffel's quest to win over Renée Minkowski throws him into contact with a disgruntled barista, his genius ex-boyfriend, a probably evil scientist, a rocker, her cousin from hell, and a girlfriend that may or may not exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Agressive Bouquet

**Author's Note:**

> There's a serious lack of Flowershop AU's in this fandom so here have this

Douglas Eiffel was allergic to flowers. Not super severely, and it wasn't that bad on his meds, but he was sure the owner of the shop, Mr. Cutter, specifically overstuffed the area around the counter of poor cashier Doug with the biggest, brightest, smelliest flowers just to keep him sneezing. He hated this job. Not like he had any other options, though, so here he was. _Stupid job and stupid flowers and stupid Mr. Cutter and **holy shit she's back**._

A young looking woman in a military uniform had just strutted in the door. She'd been here once before (again, in the uniform. God, how was she not dying in that thing? It's the middle of August), but no way had he worked up the balls to ask for her number. She stormed up to the counter.

"How do you say 'Fuck You' in flowers?" She demanded.

"How do you- what?"

"Fuck you. In flowers."

Holy. Shit. Doug is sure that this is the best thing that's happened to him the whole time he's worked here.

"Hold on." He smiled. He dug under the counter, where Mr. Cutter had stashed a giant tome about the meaning of each flower. Shoved unceremoniously between pages was a sheet of notepad paper, where Doug had scribbled the ingredients to a 'Fuck You' bouquet once in a fit of boredom on an especially slow Tuesday afternoon.

"Geraniums for stupidity," he read. "Foxglove for insincerity, meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations for disappointment, and orange lilies for hatred."

"You just became my favorite person." She said, picking the list out of his hands and rushing around the store to find the flowers.

"Right back at ya, Sergeant."

"Lieutenant. But close."

"Sorry."

Hoo boy. She was an actual bad ass. Great, awesome. That's not really attractive or anything.

The bouquet she came back with was honestly beautiful. Purples and oranges and whites. Perfectly passive aggressive.

"Bad boyfriend?" He teased, sneakily trying to gauge her relationship status.

"Annoying husband." _Damn it._ "We got into a stupid fight that I'm honestly not over but I want us to be in good status when his new girlfriend-" her eyes got wide as she realized she had just said a little more than she probably wanted to. They were really pretty eyes, Doug noticed. Deep and dark and expressive. "Shit I'm sorry that got weird I'm not a Mormon I promise-" she sputtered.

"Nah, man, I get it." He stopped her with a smile and a reassuring wave of his hand. "Polyamory is great, dude. Why love on just one person when you can love on two? I'd be an avid practitioner myself if I could find someone who could actually, you know, stand me for more than five minutes." She laughed, more than a little relieved sounding.

"Ok, wow. Well, thanks for your help..."

"Doug. Doug Eiffel."

"Renée Minkowski."

"Good luck, Minkowski."

"Thanks. I'll probably need it."

He thought of her smile as he closed up the shop. He couldn't quite pin what was so haunting about it, was a nice kind of haunting. Caspar The Friendly Ghost style. He swiped up a geranium that had slipped from the bouquet as she had left, twirled it around his fingers for a few seconds. It got it's own special vase back at his place that night, a solitary plant in his little apartment.

The next day, she was back. More suitably dressed for summer, Doug noticed with more than a bit of a blush. Denim shorts and a black tank top under a red flannel with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, and her mousy brown hair loosed from a military bun to a messy braid made him want to hide under a desk in his bright orange "Besa Mi Latino Culo" t-shirt. She chuckled as she got closer.

"Classy shirt. They let you wear that to work?"

"Mr. Cutter took French in highschool."

"Mr. Cutter?"

"The asshole who- I mean, my boss." She laughed again. He loved her laugh.

"Anything I can help you with today, Lieutenant?"

"Not particularly. I just wanted to thank you for helping me out." He was fixated on the way she twisted the end of her braid around her index finger.

"It worked?"

"He has no idea. So, thanks."

"Not a problem." _don't stare at her legs don't stare at her legs_

"Can I... Can I hang around here? For a while?" _Oh my god yes_

"Got a thing for flowers?"

"Not necessarily. But all my friends are out of town, and there's an excessive amount of PDA at my house right now with the new girlfriend..."

"So, you want to hang out... With me?"

"Yeah, I guess." _oh my god **yes**_

"Of course! I won't even charge you the usual fee for my presence."

"You are as benevolent as you are learned in flowers."

"It's one of my many better qualities."

She laughed again. Doug could get drunk on her laugh. It was deeper than would be considered feminine, but warm and soft. He had thought about that laugh for longer than he would care to admit last night.

"You know, there's this cafe across the street," he suggested, nervously pulling on the hem of his shirt under the counter. "I could take an early lunch break, and maybe we could..."

"Oh. Oh! Yeah, that... That'd be nice." Was she blushing?

"Ok then."

"Ok."


	2. Bean Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a date, but it was kinda a date. Hopefully the bitter barista from hell doesn't ruin this for Doug. But hey, it's Jacobi, so no promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day = My Death because they're both trash. Minkowski will be less ooc next chapter I promise

Urania Java was as hipster a coffee shop as you can get, which usually meant it didn't draw the right crowd for Hephaestus Flowers across the street. The Urania was modern and well designed, even if it was basically a Starbucks without a copyright infringement. Right now, it was everything Doug needed it to be to try to impress Renée. Not dumpy, quiet, and best of all, empty.

Well, almost.

Everyone's favorite barista, Daniel Jacobi, was behind the counter. If favorite means the most likely to murder you for trying to order off of the "Secret Menu" that doesn't actually exist or asking for a cookie. Doug never understood how this guy doesn't get fired. He was tall and lanky, with a side shave haircut and a wicked burn scar on the left side of his neck. How he got it was hotly debated in the neighborhood, and no two stories were ever alike.

"I just like blowing stuff up, honestly." He had offered as an explanation once. Eiffel had been seriously unsurprised at the development.

Of all the people Daniel Jacobi hated (which was many), he hated Douglas Eiffel the most. Eiffel carefully positioned himself behind Renée, to only slightly indicate that he was definitely hiding from the barista of doom.

"My first customer of the day, and it's Doug." He scoffed, with a tight lipped smile. "Because of course it is."

"Shove it, Jacobi." Eiffel snapped, trying not to super obviously get even further behind Renée.

"Whatever. What can I get you, ma'am?"

"16oz soy latte, thanks." Renée responded, trying desperately not to stare at Jacobi's scar, and failing miserably.

"It's fine." Jacobi grumbled. "Though most people are over it by now. You new around here?" He asked, leaning his elbows forward onto the counter.

"Uh, yeah. I just moved in right outside town about a week ago." She leaned away from the counter a bit, eyebrows scrunching.

"Well, welcome to Goddard." He grinned the most shit-eating grin Doug had ever seen. What was this guy planning? "What do you want, Eiffel?" He added, less grinning, more malice.

"Wha-? Oh, uh, 16oz caramel macchiato."

"Yes ma'am."

"Shove. It."

"He's got murder in his eyes." Minkowski observed out of the corner of her mouth as Jacobi scuttled away, being the only barista in the cafe.

"You get used to it. Kinda."

They grabbed their coffee, and grabbed the only corner booth by the window. Renée's hands were never idle. Always rotating her mug or shielding her eyes or pushing her bangs out of her face. Her hands were small, but rough and calloused, reminding Doug that she was, in fact, a soldier. Her eyes were constantly shifting and her questions were many, obviously a habit from having to always be vigilant for danger.

"Why does Jacobi hate you so much?" She asked, eyes fixed on the barista obviously trying to hide the fact that he had an e-cigarette under the counter.

"Hell if I know." Doug lied, taking a sip of his caramel macchiato.

"Was he hitting on me?" He almost spit out his coffee

"Jacobi? Daniel Jacobi? Dear god no. He's easily the gayest guy in town, and there are a lot of them."

"Oh."

"Though you'd totally be his type of you were a man. He's into the sexy kick ass thing." Her eyebrows shot up. Had he said that out loud?

"Wait- shit- fuck-" he stumbled over himself, blushing. She laughed, the most forgiving laugh he had ever heard, relaxing him a little.

"But seriously, you should see his ex." Doug continued, who had a habit of talking himself into a hole when he was embarrassed or nervous.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Warren Kepler. The dude was _attractive_. Probably an evil genius though. No one really knows what he was in town for. Totally dumped Daniel about a month ago and disappeared off the face of the planet." All true. Warren Kepler was the biggest mystery to set foot in Goddard, and the man _was_ seriously pretty.

"Oh, uh, are you...?" She stammered out, obviously confused about something.

"Am I...?" It took him a moment to figure out what she was asking. "Oh, _oh_ no well kinda but only partly and it's really situational and Kepler was kind of special and I might have ah had a little thing for him but I'm still definitely into women and you know I'm just going to stop talking now." His face turned a deep red as he sank into the booth, Jacobi laughing in the background.

"Hey!" Renée called back to the mocking barista, suddenly an imposing figure of doom. "You don't have a lot of room to talk, bean water boy. You're the one who got dumped, right?"

Jacobi's jaw clenched as he stormed out with his e-cigarette.

"Thanks." Eiffel muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes, embarrassed.

"Not a fan of being defended by a girl?" For a moment, a soldier's fury was turned on him. This was a woman who was used to fighting for respect.

"No! God no, I just... hate losing to Jacobi."

"I get that." She said, softening and ducking her head to meet his eyes. He smiled back tentatively. Doug had it so, so bad for this girl.

His trance was broken as an electronic chime rang from her pocket. Her gaze snapped away, as if she had been watching him like he had been watching her. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket, glancing between Doug and the screen.

"That's my husband." She told him, almost apologetically. "He's making spaghetti tonight. I've gotta go."

"Yeah, ok."

"Can I come by, see you tomorrow?"

"I... Yeah, yeah I'd love that."

"Ok. See you then."

"See you then." She smiled an almost sad smile, as she stood up and made for the door. She gripped his shoulder for a moment as she brushed past him, and he watched her as she glanced back once, flashed her smile, saluted, and disappeared.

Oh yeah. He was in love.


	3. Favors Granted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alana Maxwell drops a bombshell on Eiffel just about as small and evil as she is, and Eiffel gets a surprise delivered straight to his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My vision of Maxwell is literally the exact opposite of everyone else's but otherwise for the first time I actually like this??

It's been a week since Doug has seen Renée Minkowski, since their almost kind of coffee date. He should have gotten her number, he scolds himself. He just wanted to make sure she was ok.

The week had been unusually slow for Hepheastus Flowers, even if that implied that the little shop had more than a few customers on a good week. This specific week, however, the universe decided to curse him with unparalleled boredom and Alana Maxwell.

Alana Maxwell was the only customer all week. Her shoulder length, straight banged strawberry blonde hair might be cutesy, but behind the bottle glasses and coveralls was 5'4" of pure evil. She seemed to know everything about everyone, and would not hesitate to use it against you. She was also terrifyingly smart, to the point where she quit her job at the Urania to make a living off of being Goddard's resident tech guru. Not for money, though. No, Alana Maxwell dealt in favors, while mooching money off her roommate. Doug had no idea what these "favors" were, as he was pretty tech savvy himself (being one of the few residents who hadn't quite reached 50) and didn't tend to her help, but the look people got when he asked about these favors made him pretty sure he didn't want to know. Ever.

To a grand total of no ones surprise, Maxwell and Jacobi were best friends.

On this August afternoon, she was on the phone as she pushed through the front door.

"Babe, I promise all you've got to do is switch the wires an you'll be fine." She crooned into the smartphone, not acknowledging Doug

"You act like you don't know what you're doing. I know for a _fact_ you do." She paused, then laughed

"Yeah, it's part of what makes you so sexy." Doug's head dropped onto the counter. Why was she like this.

"Gotta go babe, call you later." Maxwell slid her phone into the back pocket of her coveralls, and nodded over at Doug as he peeled his forehead off the counter

"Hey Dougie. You ok?"

"Ready to throw up."

"Aw, don't say stuff like that about my girlfriend!" She said with mock hurt. This was weird. She never talked about her personal life.

"Finally snagged one huh?"

"Like you know a thing about me." Fair.

"Wanna know something else I know about you?" He was really pushing it. He could see it written on her face. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes as steely as gunmetal blue could be (which is to say, very).

"You two have never met."

"And you know that because...?" She said, without a care in the world, suddenly.

"How else could she stand you?" Her eyebrow twitched. She was ready to throw herself over the counter at him. Not an uncommon reaction to Doug being right.

"So can I help you are you just here to talk about your girl?"

"Her name is Hera, and yes, I'm here for a reason. My cousin is visiting for awhile." Doug had apparently moved in right after this cousin's latest visit, but he had heard rumors of her. Mostly that Isabel Lovelace had some sick ink and could and would kick anyone's ass.

"Trying to be nice?"

"Christ, no. She's allergic to flowers. Especially lilies." She sneered, grabbing a handful of them and gliding over the counter.

"That's evil." He chuckled, ringing her up. She grinned a crooked grin, and lifted her eyebrows for a moment.

"So, you wouldn't have happened to see that Air Force chick around this week, would you?" He ground his teeth, remembering why he hated her so much.

"No."

"I have." She taunted. "Almost every day now. She's very pretty. I can see why you like her so much. You're the type of guy who loves a girl who could grind you into the dirt. You'll love my cousin. Too bad she's a raging lesbian."

"Like you aren't."

"That's fair. Well, thanks Dougie. Hope you blow it with Air Force!" She sang, waltzing to the door.

"You're an asshole."

"Mm hm."

"Pet your dog for me."

"Mm hm!"

He sat back in his seat. Had Renée really been in town all week? Without seeing him?

"Dammit." He sighed, pushing his head into his hands. He must've blown it somehow. Was it the t-shirt? Jacobi? Had he insulted her by being embarrassed?

His thoughts followed Renée for the rest of the day, deciphering what might have gone wrong last week. Well, a lot of things went wrong, so technically he was looking for what went the worst. Maybe she just wasn't interested in him in the first place. He thought of the geranium he had found after she had left with her aggressive bouquet. 'Stupidity' he remembered from Mr. Cutter's book. Stupid to think she was interested. Stupid to think he could actually have a chance with anyone, much less someone as wonderful as Renée.

She haunted him as he closed up shop again. This time more in a Poltergeist way than Caspar. She had waltzed into his life for two, maybe three days, and had completely trashed his brain. Scribbled her name on the walls and carved her face onto the back of his eyes, then left without paying for the room.

He trudged back to his apartment on the corner of Wolf and 3rd. This is the part where it was supposed to rain like hell, he knew, but he supposed his "Going, Going, Gone" tank top was enough cliche for now. He climbed to the 3rd floor of Hermes Apartments, to room 59, his feet barely leaving the floor, and already planning what terrible thing to do to the geranium in his kitchen window, only to be greeted by a familiar frame leaning against his door.

Renée Minkowski had been waiting for him.


	4. Favors Owed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doug and Renée spend some time getting closer. Literally. Maxwell decides to call in a favor, and send Doug her second gift of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm :))))) ready :)))))) for death :)))))))

The first thing Doug noticed as he watched Renée Minkowski grab a cup of coffee was that she could actually look amazing at any point in time. Hair down, Air Force t-shirt, sweat pants, and the shitty lighting, and he still watched her like she was a full moon in eclipse. Beautiful and rare and maybe a little bit scary if you're not ready for it. He had invited her inside in a rush, stumbling over himself as usual. She hadn't said a word, only nodded and smiled when he asked if he should put a pot on.

"You can sit, if you like." He offered.

"No thanks. I'm sort of covered in cat hair." She declined, pushing her hair out of her face. Of course she had a cat. She was totally a cat person.

"My couch has seen worse."

"I can believe that." She snarked with a mischievous grin.

"Watch it, lieutenant." He sniped playfully back, making her laugh as she flopped onto the couch. "So, a couple of questions." He continued.

"Shoot."

"First: how did you know where I live?"

"Alana."

"Sweet Jesus never trust Maxwell."

"It was, apparently, good info."

"Yeah, for a price. She _will_ make you return the favor and it _will not_ be fun."

Her eyes widened in mock concern. "Noted."

"Ok second question."

"Why am I here?"

"Basically. I was going to be a little nicer about it though. Something closer to 'what brings you to my neck of the woods' or 'wow I'm so glad you're here but why?'"

"'My neck of the woods?' Please tell me you're not that old."

"Just answer the question." She paused, catching her lower lip between her teeth and avoiding his gaze.

"I can't remember." She said. She was lying and they both knew it.

"Ok." _Whenever you're ready._ "So, you have a cat?" He moved on, sinking into the couch next to her

She did. It's name was Juno but Renée liked to call her Junebug or Junie. She loved to talk about her cat. Doug never remembers exactly what else they talked about, but he was acutely aware of her thigh pressed against his, and the easy way her hand would brush his shoulder when he made her laugh.

"God, it's been like three hours." She sighed, checking her phone before tossing it across the couch. Doug's heart tossed itself around his rib cage as she pressed herself into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I guess I should get going."

"Yeah." _Yeah? What kind of line is that?_ "I mean, if you have to." _Nice save._ She rose slowly from the couch, making towards the door, her hand trailing over his fingers. He followed her to the door.

"Well, uh, goodnight." He stammered, blushing as she smiled gently at him. Did she just glance at his mouth? God he wanted to kiss her so bad.

"Goodnight." She leaned forward a little bit before seeming to change her mind, opting to press a quick kiss to his cheek before disappearing down the hall. Oh god he was so in love with this woman. He closed the door and pressed his back into it, smiling like an idiot. He stood there in silence for a bit.

"I think I have a chance."

"Yeah, looks like it." Came a low but female voice on the other side of the door, making Doug just about rocket out of his pants.

"Holy fucking hell!" He shouted, flinging the door back open. On the other side was a dark skinned, darker haired woman who he could only describe as a rocker chick. A loose olive tank top and a black leather jacket covered part of a rose tattoo the peaked out and climbed up the right side of her neck. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah." She grunted, holding out a note. He unfolded it forcefully, maintaining eye contact with the stranger.

_Dougie!_ He read,

_This is my cousin Isabel, the one I told you about earlier today? She got in early, so I'm calling in favor. Well, a couple of favors. One of which would be sending Air Force your way tonight (if you didn't get any, you're more hopeless than I thought). Anyway, Izzy is in town for a couple of weeks, and you have a spare room, so help a friend out here. Thanks a bunch! Andromeda says hi!  
    -Alana_

"That scheming, evil, no good little-"

"She call in a favor?" Isabel Lovelace asked knowingly, leaning against the extended handle of her rolling suitcase.

"Multiple."

"But you still didn't have to."

"Yes I did."

"She told you her dog said hi, didn't she?"

"Yeah."

"You were fucked from the start, man. My cousin is hell in denim." He liked this girl.

"Doug Eiffel." He reached out a hand for her to shake

"Isabel Lovelace." She returned the handshake with a grip that made him seriously question his masculinity.

"Welcome home." She smirked at him as he stepped aside, sweeping an arm out in an exaggerated gesture of welcome.

"So, the chick I passed in the hall, she yours?"

"Mine? What no of course not I don't 'have' anyone I can't own people-"

"Buddy."

"Yeah. Sorry. You should- you should probably prepare yourself for a lot of that." He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. She rolled her suitcase back towards the guest room.

"She's cute. Careful I don't sweep her out from under you." Isabel Lovelace winked at him as she disappeared into the spare room.

This was going to be a weird couple of weeks.


	5. Koudelka and Young

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Renée Minkowski talks husbands, girlfriends, mysterious training sessions and phone calls, and almost maybe first dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changing the POV cause why not? We'll get back to Doug soon, I promise, but I kinda like the challenge of writing Minkowski.

"You're home late." Renée almost dropped her mug of tea as her husband appeared in the doorway of their kitchen. She relaxed and smiled contentedly as he moved forward, pulling her towards him by the waist and planting a kiss on her temple.

"I was visiting a..." She didn't quite know how to explain her budding relationship with Doug "a friend." She settled on at last.

"Oh?"

"Shut up." She shoved his head playfully as he laughed. She had a habit of falling in love with people's laugh, and her husbands was easily her favorite, deep and warm.

"Come to bed soon. It's, like, one in the morning."

"I thought I was in the guest room for awhile?"

"I miss you." He wrapped both arms around her waist, gently placing his forehead to the side of her face. "You've been so distant after the... Well, you know."

The phone call. She hated thinking about it. She had decided she wouldn't even think about leaving until she had to. She had to admit she was glad it at least got her back into her husbands bed. His new girlfriend was, well, new. She got a good bit of special treatment.

"You don't like her, do you?" He asked, genuinely concerned.

"Rachel seems plenty nice, but there's something about her I don't trust. There's a difference."

"Look, I know this whole poly, open relationship thing is new to us, but I'm sure it will get easier."

"That's not what this is about-" she started to protest before getting cut off by a quick kiss

"Besides, I get the feeling you have a boy in town." He teased, lifting an eyebrow suggestively.

"He's not mine." She protested again, blushing at the idea of Doug Eiffel being 'hers', though maybe the fact that Doug was the first person who popped into her head was a solid indicator that there was  _something_ going on between them.

"But there _is_ a guy, right? At least one you're interested in?"

"Maybe."

"That's my girl!" He whooped, making Renée laugh as she tried to shush him.

"Excuse me." Snapped a female voice behind them. The still unfamiliar slim figure of Rachel Young stood in the doorway, her vividly red hair piled in a messy bun. "It's like one in the morning. Could we maybe not?" Rachel glared at Renée as she said this, as if she had been the one making the noise instead of her husband.

"Sorry." Her husband apologized sheepishly. "We were just going to bed."

"Right. Just, keep it down, okay babe?"

"I promise."

"Mm hm." Rachel swept back to the guest room, leaving Renée and her husband alone again.

"So, to bed?" Renée suggested.

"In a way." He teased, tugging her towards their bedroom.

Renée wore his shirt the next morning. If it was partly to maybe piss off Rachel, Minkowski was set on never admitting it. Renée and her husband sat in their kitchen, which was more used than their living room ever was. He was sitting at the table, she was sitting on the counter, and both were drinking black coffee when Rachel slid into the kitchen. She always moved with a grave that felt almost unnatural, especially in the mornings.

"Remember when I asked you two to keep it down last night?" She chirped, in a good-natured tone

"Yea?" Renée responded, half into her coffee.

"I meant it. There's a very thin wall between our rooms, you know."

"Oops." Renée muttered, eyebrows raised as her husband choked on his coffee, half from laughing.

"By the way, some guy left a voicemail for you last night."

"Me?"

"No, the coffee. Yes, you. I checked it when I moved to sleep on the couch."

"From who?"

"Hell if I know. Some guy named Doug."

"Oh!" Renée pushed herself off of the counter, and headed for the landline in the living room.

"Is this the guy?" Her husband asked as she passed.

"Shut up."

She hurried into the living room, picked up the phone by the tv, and quickly punched in the code for the voicemail.

"Hey, Renée, it's Doug. Uh, I know it's kinda late- ok, it's really late but I know if I don't do this now I'm gonna forget about it, so do you... Maybe want to get... I dunno, dinner or something? Not as in a date! I mean if you want it to be a date it can totally be a date and I'm starting to ramble again so just call me back? Maybe? Ok yeah. Uh. Bye. Oh wait shit uh my number's 206-"

Renée chuckled into the receiver as she quickly copied down the number before dialing it. He was such a giant dork. One ring. Two rings. Three.

"You've got Eiffel."

"Hey, it's me."

"R-Renée! Hi!"

"Hey Doug. Got your voicemail."

"Whoa yeah ok so what do you think?"

"First off, how'd you get this number?"

"Maxwell."

"How does she...?" She trailed off before shaking her head to dismiss the many ways Alana Maxwell could have gotten her home number. "Never mind. Don't wanna think about that. Too creepy."

"Warned you."

"Shut up."

"So about dinner..."

"Doug, I'd really love to..." how to say this without freaking him out? "But I've got training tonight." She lied quickly. It wasn't completely a lie, but it wasn't the truth either.

"Training?"

"Yeah. I'm on active duty, so I have a regular training session. It's just protocol. Nothing to worry about." More half truths.

"Oh. Yeah okay cool."

"Tell you what, let's get coffee or something at the Urania today. When's your lunch break?"

"About two hours from now." Okay. Okay! She could make this work.

"How about then."

"I'd love to." She could almost hear his stupid, crooked, adorable grin on the other end of the line.

"Okay. See you then."


End file.
